Let us roll baby roll!

I am infamous for being late. Always. But today was an exception. I actually managed to leave home by 10.26 AM, which was four minutes before the agreed departure time (agreed between the man and the wife of-course!). And then began the journey of a lifetime. A nearly 29 hour train ride. As much as I would like to call it a cross-country rail trip, it was actually from the Midwest to the South. Simply put, Chicago to Austin.

Was I nervous? Heck yes! Why was I nervous? 29 hours in a train. Ridiculous idea. So said my mind, heart and soul even while I was booking the tickets. Crowd. Fancy spending a day with strangers? I don't! Even worse, sharing the loo. No way! What else. I was skeptical about the crowd. What sort of people really take trains (or rather not fly)? Assuming that they plan well ahead in time and don't book their tickets two days before the d-day when the fare from mid to south is equivalent to mid to trans-Pacific upto trans-English channel. Finally the luxury of being married, and particularly to a husband who is extremely caring, has ensured that I am always guided (I don't mean guarded). Physically or like a GPS. Raghav doesn't think very highly of me when we are talking directions. Neither does anyone else.

Well, to fast forward, I did manage to take the train. On time. This I did after casting lots about whether to go or not to Texas abroad the Texas Eagle 21. The said YES unfortunately.

Its been a fun ride so far. Spent 7 hours in the train so far. Not enough to pass a verdict. Probably that's why I decided to write this entry and say that I M LOVIN IT so far. I totally see myself pulling out my hair by the time the train tromps to Austin.

I also want to thank Jeffrey Archer. I love you Jeff. You made this journey bearable. Actually fun. Until now. How? A Quiver Full of Arrows. More than half way through already. Sigh. I do have a Paulo Coelho but am a bit skeptical about whether I would enjoy him again. Enjoy him. Urrr.

My pack of peanuts has been fun too. How much? Probably two inches by the time I am back to Chi-town.

And guess what, I am carrying my Kellogg blanket for the night. Raghav was gifted the blanket, along with other trivia, as a token of appreciation for his long hours as the Adcom reader. And look who gets to use it!

My bag that I have been told to clutch to my heart, just after my dear life, also deserves a mention. My husband has ensured that I carry three credit cards and keep them at three different places so that losing my bag doesn't mean that I am stranded. Well, but I am to guard my bag dearly for the iPad because in there lies my savior, a zillion movies that Raghav has downloaded for me knowing well that I wouldn't ever watch them under any other circumstances.

More about the interesting people around in my follow-up post tomorrow after I have pulled every hair out of my scalp.

Merits of Hope!

I oscillate between the two extremes of being an eternal optimist and being entirely hopeless. Funny? Indeed! Still trying to figure out which state takes precedence when!

Anyway so just yesterday, when I was in a near-dejected form, Raghav sat me down on his lap and carefully explained to me the merits of hope and why we shouldn't lose hope. After a long discourse, he decided to cite an example - "If I had lost hope, I wouldn't be able to marry you". My quick retort was, "If you are HOPING that one day I will turn into a loving and adorable wife then seriously don't even try to hope". In his reply, Raghav put-on his best Bollywood accent and claimed, "Pyaar mein bahut takat hoti hai" (Love is very powerful). To which I joked in a melodramatic tone, "But I married you for money honey". Raghav's classic end to the discussion, "In that case, tumhara double chutiya kat gaya!" (...translation required!!!)

Darling Darrr-ling!

What's with London's fascination with the word 'darling'? It's one of the few words that everyone in the extremely multicultural city of London seems to have picked up! I am greeted with 'how are you darling' at the grocery stores and 'see you again darling' at the coffee shops; even the Moroccan guy at the dilapidated internet cafe and fax center said a 'thank you darling' after handing me my change. The darling-phrases sure are on everyone's lips, and perhaps also one of those few bits and pieces that every Londoner (referring to those who currently live in the city) seems to have caught-up regardless of whether he or she can otherwise comprehend or speak fluently in English.

Traveling Light

I wouldn't trade a very many good things for the experience of watching a lovely play at the National Theatre in London. The fabulous production 'Traveling Light' in the lovely Lyttelton theatre has truly been a remarkable experience.

What made the production so incredibly beautiful was the superb talent and passion of the actors. I was actually transported into a different era, the late 19th century Britain, and I so felt a part of it. I was truly in the actor's world, and laughed with them, cried with them and got just as startled with them. I would give full credit to the performance of the actors, and not to the script, for the success of this play and also in general. This perhaps is not completely true for cinema where the actor is allowed re-takes and breaks. The actors were actually far too brilliant than what the words can describe, making the play incredibly amazing!

About the play:

The play centers around a remote village in Eastern Europe, from around 1900, where the young Motl Mendl is entranced by the flickering silent images on his father’s cinematograph. Bankrolled by Jacob, the ebullient local timber merchant, and inspired by Anna, the girl sent to help him make moving pictures of their village, he stumbles on a revolutionary way of story-telling. Forty years on, Motl – now a famed American film director – looks back on his early life and confronts the cost of fulfilling his dreams. How had a twenty-two-year–old pretentious layabout made a discovery that would elude every other cinematic pioneer for years to come?

The play is a funny and fascinating tribute to the Eastern European immigrants who became major players in Hollywood’s golden age.

Hither or Thither?

Traveling brights up a spark in me, oh how I love to travel, just walk around unknown streets. I really do lust for it. Off-late, I realized that its not fair to compare places because every city has something new, different and special to offer, and rather than comparing and contrasting, we should try and enjoy such subtleties that appeal to us. I still believe that Paris is the most beautiful city on earth, but its true that I enjoyed myself the most in Rome, and simply fell in love with Scotland. Ah! My dream job would be anything that pays me for traveling, for sheer traveling. I can probably write about the places, cuisines, people. That's not easy, is it? I can do without holidays and the only perk that I desire is my husband's company because no place is half as much fun without him as with him.

Desert Rose

I set out on my journey alone, left a few relationships behind and made a few new ones. And have been walking a desert since then. At times, the scorching sun balks me down, and just then I encounter an oasis that placates me. Ah, it's been quite a journey, and I haven't had enough of the sand yet. I love the dunes, they make me want to conquer them, run to the their peak. But I can't run on the sand, until I am flat-footed. And there is no peak, for all the dunes are alike. I can't yet settle for which one I want, and as I dawdle around in the mighty desert, I run out of breath, and halt to make a sand castle, and crush it under my feet as I move on, to look for 'my' dune. The sweet smell of a desert rose elates me, so low are my expectations, but I still dream to conquer my dune, to run and reach its top, even though I am not flat-footed, for I am a dreamer.

And we celebrated the Earth Hour!

The drive to Bareilly was extremely bumpy, and the road replete with pot holes. But Bareilly struck us as a city of wonders, and entertained us beyond explanation!

The fun began when we had to cross a railway-cum-rail bridge, built on river Ganga. The deal about this narrow, single lane bridge was that it had a tarred road with a railway track. So when the bridge was closed for the train to pass, the vehicles would wait on both sides, and then one-by-one the traffic on each side would be let on the same bridge. After one side cleared, the other vehicles from the other side would be allowed. Hilarious!

Passport woes: I was the first to submit my passport application and the last to receive my passport. Apparently, it's more convenient to work in the reverse order, since you don't have to adjust the pile of files. Ridiculous! First come, first serve is boring. Anyway, the early bird doesn't catch the worm these days.

Only if I was a little smarter, I would have figured out that it takes only 4 to 5k to procure a passport the same day, without any documents or verification. I spent much more than that in order to obtain a verification certificate from an Inspector General of Police based in Allahabad and the necessary affidavits and documents. Pooh! 4 to 5k for a passport, that's why the bomb blasts and hijacks happen in our country.

I was told that I wasn't required to bribe since my documents were in place and complete, and at the same time I was asked if I still wanted to bribe. Excuse me?

A little bit of flash back, my bro and I submitted our passport application on the same day but he received a police inquiry while I didn't. Apparently, all pending files in the passport office had been kept on hold and only 'Haj' passports were being issued. I guess it was assumed that if someone wants her passport desperately, let her leave her job and other errands, run to Bareilly for few days and prove that herself worthy of the honor of receiving her passport on time. So much for changing my surname!

To beat it all, the passport authorities wouldn't have felt the need to verify my existence for the next few years, until I renewed my passport, if I didn't want to change my surname after marriage. But because I chose to, and they were burdened with this extra work, they decided to make the process utmost tedious for me.

With a few hours in hand, we tried to look for a mall or multiplex, the city had none. An advertisement about a local cinema hall, which was running 'Kites', in the local newspaper Dainik Jagran read, "Cooling will be provided subject to electricity". This freaked us out and we dropped the movie idea. So we tried to locate a Barista or a CCD, and were misguided to a Dominos. Indeed we felt privileged to enter an air-conditioned enclosure after riding on a manual rickshaw in the heat and humidity of the peculiarly amusing city.

Raghav was quick to observe and comment on the electricity scenario in the state, and relate it to the Earth Hour. He rightly pointed out that switching off the electricity for an hour could be a huge sacrifice for the Europeans and Americans because it is a basic necessity for them. However, for a majority of Indians, who don't get electricity for 8 to 9 hours, or even more, in a day, does the observance of the Earth Hour hold any significance at all?